Its Peanut Season Again

Its still a little hard to believe, but its cold season here, and peanut harvesting time again. In an effort to have something to do and get out of my house, I have been going to some of the women's fields to harvest. Its a long, tiring process; although its mostly women's job to farm peanuts, men help in planting and weeding, and then pulling up the plants. After the men pull up the peanut plants, the women collect the plants into a large pile to dry in the sun. Once all the plants are pulled up, each woman asks her friends to come help pull the peanuts off the plant, to be dried in the sun some more before being take home or bagged up to be sold. Its a long, back-breaking process, but doing the work with your friends and neighbors alleviates the tediousness a little bit. The sale of peanuts is one of the main sources of income here, especially for women. Unfortunately, although I'm no expert on agricultural economics, I think the women get the short end of the deal. Women here sell their 50kg (110lbs) for about 5,000CFA, or about $11USD. There are so many middlemen, and so many difficulties into getting the peanuts to the capital or another major town, that the women have no other choice but to sell for what they can, and the end consumer gets the high price. After seeing the farming process from the beginning, I doubt I will ever eat peanuts again, without thinking of all my Malian friends working so hard under the African sun.

Another (Peace Corps Country) Bites the Dust

I remember that living in the States, one would often hear about foreign countries suddenly erupting in violence, or staging a coup, or generally fall apart for some reason. Well, living here in Mali, the experience is brought a little closer to home. Not to say that Mali is on the brink of state collapse any time soon, but as another African Peace Corps program is closed this week, one starts to wonder about the future stability of the other countries around, and yes, even one's own country. This week, Bamako is hosting 90+ volunteers from Guinea- yes, that Guinea, the one I just went to and had a lovely time despite the crazy leadership in power. In case some of you missed the violence last month(and I know some of you did): during an opposition rally in Conakry in September, the military decided to open fire, killing over 150 people. Well, despite the leader in charge claiming he had no idea it was going to happen, the fact that elections keep getting pushed back and opponents keep getting harassed or worse, convinced PC headquarters to shut the program down. Hence, the "refugees" hanging out here in Bamako. What happens to them now? you may ask. Some go home to the States; some join the post PC program, Peace Corps Response; some go to other countries in the area, to start afresh; and some are staying in Mali. This is actually the third time Mali has received "refugees" from a former Peace Corps African nation. Seven months ago, we got six volunteers from Madasgascar, after the political upheaval there. Two months ago we had several volunteers move to Mali after Mauritania essentially kicked them out; one girl is now my neighbor. We joke about the coups going on around us and moving about countries, but it is true there has been one volunteer moved around three countries in as many months here. So we wonder about what will happen now and what country is going to shut down next, and hope it isn't our own. Because I would personally be very, very pissed if I had to leave before I got to install those solar panels on my clinic's roof.

Making Malians Do It Themselves

Sometimes I am convinced that my main job here is not to make things better but encourage Malians to change themselves. What I mean is this: there is usually a group of people in the village- generally professionals such as health staff, teachers, politicians- who have some kind of knowledge. Sometimes, what they need is someone else to encourage them to transmit that knowledge, and sometimes the materials as well. For example, one of the things I regularly try to do is give weekly health talks to the women's association meetings. Normally the health staff is busy or forgets to come help me, but at this last meeting both the midwife and the vaccination guy came, which was a good thing because I had chosen to talk about birth spacing and birth control. Well, I always have a planned speech, but my partners in health kind of took over half-way through. And the thing is this: they know the advantages of spacing pregnancies as well as I do, as well as how birth control works. And on top of that, they have the language and cultural sensitivity to transmit that information. So its not that I'm here to tell anyone some groundbreaking new information, I just have to convince people to share that info with the general public. At times that is what frustrates me here: there seems to be two groups of people, the ones that are educated and the ones who aren't. And they aren't trying to meet in the middle. The ones with the knowledge are usually dismissive of the general public (most often with the women) and argue that they're not trying or that they don't care, like getting their children vaccinated or studying hard to pass school, and the population has so many other matters on their mind, and things to do, that they often don't see the importance in such things. So it feels in Mali that there is a conflicting desire for change and yet cynacism of that change. I guess not unlike the rest of the world.

One sidenote: more photos of my village are up in the Mali album! Including pictures of wall murals, goats and babies.

Who Wants To Donate?

So many of you have probably been wondering what I’ve been doing the past year. Other than giving health talks, weighing babies and drinking lots of tea, I’ve been talking to the community about their needs/wants. The staff at the health center has made clear that what they really want is electricity to light the center up at night and to power their vaccinations freezer. So if you were waiting for a chance to contribute to my little community here, now is your opportunity!

Basically, my health center services the little district I live in; its comprised of about 15 villages and smaller hamlets. There about 10,000 people in the district, most of them women and children. Currently, there is no power at the district. The freezer that holds the vaccinations runs on petrol, which is both expensive and wasteful. We are hoping to buy solar panels that would power the freezer and provide light at night when needed. I’m keeping with Peace Corps goal of making our work sustainable by teaching people to help themselves, so the community is required to raise a third of the total cost themselves. Part of the remaining costs will come from Peace Corps funds set aside for this very purpose, and I am asking for your help to finance the rest. I know there is a global recession going on right now, but even a little amount will help a great deal. If you want to help, there are two ways you can reach the Peace Corps page to donate. The website with my project is

www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=resources.donors.contribute.projDetail&projdesc=688-313

If that link does not work, you can go to the Peace Corps page, www.peacecorps.gov, and then go to the Donate Now link on the left-hand side of the page; from there, you can search for my project by my last name. Thank you so much in advance for your help, and I promise to keep you updated on how things turn out!

Sahara: Worst Movie Ever!

I’m not usually in the habit of writing movie reviews, but my friend and I decided to watch the movie Sahara the other day, and we were so offended I felt I had to say something about it. If you’ve never seen it, it stars Matthew McConaughy and Penelope Cruz trying to find a missing ship/ stopping an epidemic outbreak/ some other ridiculousness in Mali. The only problem is that they make up some fictional Mali that has nothing to do with the current situation. In Sahara’s scenario, Mali is run by some reggae-sounding general with dreads, with chaos and strife ruling. Now Mali has a lot of problems going for it, but the one thing they have managed to avoid is falling into the civil-war/ warlord scenario that has plagued many other African nations. I’m not expecting Hollywood to be all politically-correct all of a sudden, but poor Mali barely gets any face time as it is in the world, the least they could do is give it a good rep. True, there are some problems in the north, involving a small rebellion from an ethnic minority population and the presence of Al-Qaeda coming across from Algeria, but overall Mali is a really (really!) peaceful country that has transitioned rather tranquilly from colony to semi-democracy.

Pictures of Guinea!

Sorry it has taken a while, but pictures of my trip to Guinea can now be seen in my Google photo album: just click "New Mali Album" and enjoy!

Rainy Season Comes to Mali

Its that time of year again; the season where the work just piles up and yet, most volunteers are bored out of their minds. Its raining in Mali.

In my area, the rains started coming sporadically in late June, but since then there is a steady downpour every other day. The rest of the time the weather is still pretty warm (if not downright humid, Miami-style) and the bugs are plenty. Thankfully, I've been gone from my village for a lot of the season already, although I don't mind the rainstorms so much; Mali has some terrific thunderstorms. The problem with rainy season is what happens after the rains: my village is turned into a sea of mud, and everyone heads for their fields. In a way, I rather enjoy the eerie quiet that has descended here. Its the first time in months that I haven't woken to the sound of my neighbors'pounding grain, or the kids on their way to school. The flip side is there is pretty much nothing to do. Its near impossible to get people together for meetings, and forget getting women to sit down for 10 minutes to talk about health problems. So most of the past week I have sat at the health center shooting the shit or in my hut, reading. Most villagers also think its pretty entertaining to try to get me to their fields. Nearly everyone I encounter wants me to go help them farm; the idea that I have no idea how to farm, much less African-style, does not register with them. How do I explain that I can't tell the difference between a weed and a peanut plant? They can't fathom the idea that I have never farmed, because everyone knows how to farm. I can't make them understand that I come from a city so large, there are no farms for miles. I am a city girl, born and raised, and proud of it, furthermore. But in all fairness, I did go out farming once or twice. And it is hard; more than that, its back-breaking. I know a little bit about farming, even if I don't know how to do it myself; my mothers' family is still in California's Central Valley, after all. The two have nothing to do with the other. Basically, there is no mechanized labor in Mali- everything is done by hand. Their hoes literally consist of a foot-long piece of wood with a crude metal spade attached. There is some access to pesticides and fertilizer here, but hardly used to the extent they are in the West. Because of this, most farmers are limited to farming small plots of land; mainly peanuts, millet and corn. I helped weed a peanut field for a few hours, and afterwards I was completely exhausted. I don't know how people here do it, day after day, but they do, and sometimes they grow just enough to feed themselves and a little to sell.

Frankly I think that if aid is going to help, it has to focus a lot more attention on the agriculture sector. Most of Mali's population is involved in farming, one way or the other, and unless better methods are introduced the poverty cycle seems likely to continue. I'm not advocating handing a tractor out to every farmer- that would be disastrous- but small changes may make big impacts.

Guinea- kind of like Mali, but with a crazier leader

As some of you know, I went on vacation last week to Guinea. The plan was travel down south, and then back up through the country until getting to the Fouta Djalon, this tropical rainforest-like area high up in the mountainsl; go hiking and make it back to Mali, all within a week's time. It actually took a little longer than week, but we were successful in getting to the mountains and going hiking. Now I'm not the biggest hiker in the world, but the sights were truly beautiful: 1000ft cliffs, waterfalls, lush vegetation, crazy rock formations and a little wildlife to boot (I promise pictures will be coming soon to an album near you). It was impressive to see such an amazing area because the reality is that most people have never heard of this area, even those from West Africa. It would be a great tourist spot and should be promoted more by Guinea as one of its great natural resources, but like so much of the country, that potential is left alone.
Which brings me to the rest of the country. In some ways, Guinea is a little better off than Mali, at least the parts that I saw. The huts are a little nicer than the ones in my village, and the villages themselves seem to be a little cleaner, a little more organized. The cities seemed a bit nicer than the one I'm used to, Kita, with them seeming to be set on a more organized system. There wasn't as much sewage as I'm used to, and the architecture was a bit more interesting, compared to the square, squat buildings that make up most of Kita. Food is also much cheaper than in Mali, and there seems to be a lot more business going on, more people setting up little enterprises to make a little extra money. In that respect, I was impressed with what I saw in Guinea and realized that there is a lot of promise in Guinea- if they ever get their act together. Unfortunately, along with the beautiful landscape and vast amounts of natural resources (including lots of gold) they also have huge political problems. For those who haven't heard political news from here in a while, back in December the longtime Guinean President died, throwing the country into a bit of a mess. Luckily there was no bloodshed but the military staged a coup, putting a young Captain in charge. Now, I'm sure most of you know where this is going: the military promises presidential elections will be held in December of this year, but most people think thats a bold-faced lie. But, to make things worse, the President is now showing some signs of having mental problems. Not just the issues that come with loving power too much and thinking everyone is trying to kill you, but some honest bi-polarity problems that make him more than the usual unstable. Add to this an army that hasn't been paid in a while, a really terrible currency and bordering neighbors like Sierra Leone, Liberia and Cote d'Ivoire, and you have a country that is going to be having some problems for years to come. However, I do have to recommend Guinea as a place to go, if you don't mind some adventure. The country IS beautiful and the people are nice, and if you can get past the initial problems, then I think it is a great place to be.

One Year and Counting

Sorry it has been so very long since last writing- my life has actually been very full and busy the last couple of months, which I am very grateful for. But now that I've reached the one-year mark since arriving in Mali, its caused me and my fellow volunteers quite a lot of introspection. Most of us still find it a little hard to believe that its been one year already (perhaps a little to our relief). And although it seems sometimes that there isn't much I've done or that there is still a long ways to go linguistically, culturally and professionally, when I stop to think about it I've realy come a long way. I've become used to a certain way of life, one that I never imagined possible this time last year. I've learned a new language and made some new and hopefully long-lasting relationships. I've learned patience (it helps when you bring a book with you) and to take things easy, because there is nothing that is worth rushing for. I've learned that I like my way of life here, but I also love the life I had back at home, where I had family and friends with me every step of the way. I've learned humility and graciousness and the ability to just know when to give up. I've learned what my own limits to the unknown are(larger than I would have originally thought). I've learned that its been one hell of a crazy year, and I have no doubts that the year to come will be just as crazy, so I should enjoy it to the fullest. And I've learned that when I come back to America next year it'll be with a whole new appreciation for West Africa, for home, and for myself.